Somewhere
by Miss Killigrew
Summary: When man-hunting turns takes a suspicious ressemblance to baby-sitting, Don and Cooper are not impressed. Pre-show.  Rated M for non explicit rape and violence.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note : It took me a long time to gather the courage to publish this, years, in fact. And not only because my the days of my misspent youth when I had more or less made a name for myself in the beautiful world of fanfiction are long-gone, but also because of several other facts._

_One, this story came to me in English. ( Yes... I'm French. ) Let's just say I sincerely hope these people who mistook me for a native weren't just being nice and that I haven't made too many grammar and/or spelling mistakes._

_Two, I'm not sure this can be strictly labelled as fanfiction. The central characters are my own, but I've borrowed the others ( and they're essential to the story... ) to Numb3rs._

_Three, this wasn't beta'ed._

_So... any mistakes are my own and comments are always very welcome._

PROLOGUE

It is weird. That such a tiny, fragile looking thing could have participated to cause so much trouble. She's lying on the hospital bed, long black hair contrasting almost painfully with the paleness of her face. And they've seen pictures, but in the middle of the enormous looking, immaculate sheets, she looks all too young.

- You were fast, someone says from behind them.

- Doctor Clements. Thanks for calling us, Don says politely. Is she better?

- She's awake, the doctor replies, openly reluctant. I'm going to be clear, you asked me to call you when she'd wake up so I did, but this has to be fast. She's still weak and clearly terrified.

- We'll be careful, Cooper promises.

* * *

><p>Her dark eyes shoot up immediately towards them when they push the glass door open, almost assessing. Her little hands are closed in fists upon the blanket.<p>

- Hello, Erica, Don says gently. My name's Don. Don Eppes. This is Billy Cooper.

- We're with the FBI.

- I guessed, she says softly. This became a federal case the second we crossed the border, right?

Her British accent only adds to the politeness in her voice, but there's a underlying sarcasm that laces it. The partners exchange a surprised look.

- It did, Don says matter-of-factly. We have a few questions if you feel up to it.

- You can ask the questions.

Her eyes are lowered, fixed on the metal frame at the end of the bed.

- Okay. Do you know where your brother is?

- No.

- Are you sure? ( She remains silent so he continues more softly) Hey, we're here to help you, alright? Nothing's gonna happen to you now.

She raises her head to look Don in the eye and the black, impossibly _old_ gaze makes him a bit uncomfortable.

- You believe he's the one who hurt me, she says numbly, as if to herself.

- Who hurt you?

- Not Luke. But all this... this isn't about me, is it?

- What do you mean? Coop asks.

There's the faintest impatience in his voice, slight annoyance in his blue eyes when she spares a quick look at him. Fear makes her stomach clench but she focuses swiftly on the corner of the sheet and keeps a tight rein on her feelings.

' Don't show them you're scared. Because they'll still do what they want to do in the end.'

- Nothing, she says softly.

A unsure look passes before the partners before they change tactics.

- Do you know officer Finns? Billy goes on.

- Why?

- Erica, we know you're scared and that you want to protect your brother. But if Luka has done something bad, I think you should help us. Before he hurts someone else.

- He won't.

- Are you sure? Don continues gently. You know, it's a safe bet your brother is pretty... confused right now. And people can do unexpected things when they're confused.

- You don't know him.

- Do you want to tell us who hurt you?

- No.

- But you said it wasn't Luka. So if it's true, why don't you want to tell us?

She shakes her head very softly, eyes down.

- Hey, we all know it's hard for you, okay? And you know, I've got a brother as well. When we were little, we used to fight. He hit me with a stick once. He was just mad, I didn't think I really wanted to hurt me, but that doesn't mean my parents were wrong in grounding him.

- You're lying.

- Excuse me?

- Maybe you fought, but you just made that story up. I don't think he ever hit you with a stick. I think... wrestling matches tended to turn out in your advantage.

- Okay. Maybe I was the one who got grounded.

- I won't tell you anything.

- Erica...

- I'm tired now. Maybe you should leave.

- Okay, Coop sighs.

- Look, if you... change your mind, Doctor Clements has our number.

- … Fine.

* * *

><p><em>A week before<br>_

_March 12th,_

- This has got to be a joke.

Cooper sounds so exasperated that Don would have burst in laughter if he didn't feel exactly the same. Things being as they are, he just drops his bag in the back seat and slams the door.

- I know.

- Can't they handle a kid? I mean, what are we, babysitters? If they can't keep two kids from leaving their goddamn state then who the fuck ever gave them a badge at all?

- You're gonna stand there cursing all day or are we gonna get a move on?

Still frowning, Coop grumbles something before offering his partner to lead the way. Don shrugs and puts his car in gear.

Luka and Erica Jensen. Eighteen and ten years old. Heirs of the single richest British family. Both born in London, respectively on August 27th and September 22nd, moved from Britain to the US five years ago. Ten months later, the father died in a car accident, leaving his kids to their mother in a small town thirty miles from Boston until the previous year, when Luka moved to the city for senior high, taking his sister with him.

The agents' mood hasn't brightened two days later, when they reach Boston. They get in touch with the PD officer who's to hand over the case and arrange to meet at two in the afternoon.

The guy who's waiting for them in the tiny office that smells of cigarette smoke and dust is a little over forty, blond hair cut short, all thin lips and sharp lines. Too many years of smoking made his fingers and teeth turn yellowish, his eyes are slightly foggy and he's got bag under his eyes.

After ten minutes of conversation from which they come out knowing all suspicions are on Luka Jensen, Cooper decides to cut to the chase.

- How do you explain a teenager unarmed a trained officer?

- The kid was learning martial arts at four.

- That's what got them past the border?

- Agent Cooper, my partner was shot by this little son of a bitch. Do you really think I didn't try and find them?

- No, but you obviously missed something.

- What did the mother say, officer Roberts? Don asks more calmly with a discreet but firm look to his partner.

Roberts shakes his head but accepts the truce.

- Mother's mental. Bipolar. She's under treatment and hasn't seen any of her children in a while. Last time she'd seen her son was apparently before they both moved here. And according to the neighbours, she wasn't exactly a present mother. But I don't give a rat's ass about all the psychological bullshit, at least as far as he's concerned. ( he takes a fag and brings it to his lips) D'you mind?

Don makes a 'go ahead' gesture before flipping the file open.

- They don't have any family around, he notes.

- And they're god damn smart. The girl's a genius or whatever... and you know, I don't give a fuck what you think I did. Just find them and send the bastard behind bars.

* * *

><p><em>March 14th<em>

- You're the cops?

The two agents turn to face a man in a white blouse, clipboard in one hand, who just came up to them. They pull out their badges and the doctor frowns.

- I'm doctor Clements. Federal agents... Whoa. Isn't she a little young to be in trouble with you guys?

- How is she? Don asks.

- Not well enough to talk to anyone.

- That wasn't the question, Coop replies.

Clements shakes his head.

- Not well. She was stabbed in the shoulder and the wound's pretty infected, though apparently she tried to clean it.

- Stabbed?

- Yeah. A little while ago, apparently.

- How long exactly?

- Impossible to say. Over a week, two maybe. Given the depth of the wound, it's a miracle she's alive at all. She was beaten, I found fading bruises all over her body, dating back from probably the same time as the stabbing. And she was dehydrated.

- Did you see the man who brought her?

- No. We found her in the lobby, she was unconscious.

- You didn't see a ten-year-old enter?

- Agent... Eppes, right? I don't make a living on handcuffing children. Did you see the number of people in that lobby?

- So you don't know who brought her, Coop cuts in. Nor exactly when it happened.

- No.

- When will she be well enough to talk to us?

- Not right now. I don't know when she'll wake up and anyway, I want to keep her here fr at least a week, under observation.

- All right. Please call us when she's awake.

- I couldn't find her family. Can you warn them?

Cooper nods and the two agents leave.

* * *

><p><em>March 16th<em>

- Hello, Erica.

The girls nods at them, but it's more an reflex born out of deeply ingrained good manners than a sincere welcoming. They pull out chairs closer to her bed before sharing a look.

Her color has improved and she's shed the awful hospital nightgown in favor of black sweat pants and a far too large sweater. It makes her seem even tinier, but healthier.

- Doctor Clements told us you're doing better, Cooper starts. You're feeling okay?

- Yes, thank you for asking.

Her polite words are totally debunked by her the almost sardonic glint in her black eyes, convincing the agent to abandon small talk.

- Good. Well, listen, you're gonna get out soon and... you know, you don't exactly have many choices here. If you want to call someone, a friend we don't know about, you can, but you can't leave the state until we have Luka. And we'll have to put you all under witness protection.

- Witness protection. Is that what I am, a witness?

- Depends. Do you have something to tell us?

Her eyes narrow, but strangely enough, the sarcasm in them has been replaced by a strange kind of... respect. She shakes her head, making Cooper nod.

- All right. So, the judge has decided it wouldn't be safe to get your mother over here, so do you want to call someone?

- There's no one, she says neutrally. That means that I'm under witness protection no matter what, is that it? How did you get my mother to sign?

- Given the given circumstances, I signed, Don says.

- You have to get the approval of my legal guardian.

- Until that case is closed, the rules have changed.

- Really? ( The glint of bitter irony is back with a vengeance.) Fine.

* * *

><p><em>March 17th<em>

The room is pretty big but anonymous, with a king-sized bed, huge commode and desk in the same dark wood. It's probably the only good thing she'll get out of this whole mess: having slept in a king-sized bed again. Very exciting.

- I'm going to sleep here?

- Hum-hum. ( Don dangles in the air the bag he's carrying) Where do you want me to leave this?

- What is it?

- Clothes, mostly. You can make a list and we'll have the rest brought tomorrow.

- My clothes?

- Yeah. Where do I...?

She points to the commode absent-mindedly, more concerned by the fact that two complete strangers went through their stuff. So much for legal right to privacy, hum? She swallows against the sudden bitter taste in her throat and decides the kind-sized bed won't be used for long.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading and let me know if I should publish the rest... :-)<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Huge thanks to Gin, Cissyaliza and notsing for the reviews !  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>March 18th<em>

The little white plastic box is quietly sitting on a corner of a table. And the agents who're supposed to play baby-sitters are downstairs, she can hear their voices merging with agents Cooper's and Eppes's. Her fingers brush the paper wrapping of the biscuits she stole from the kitchen as she slips the medication into her sweater pocket before making a beeline for the room she's used.

- Who's doing the nights? One of the agents asks.

- We are. We all hope this won't be too long, but according to the witnesses, Jensen should at least try and come get her.

- According to these witnesses, he never would have raised a hand to her, Cooper grumbles.

He thinks this is a crappy idea. That this girl should just be handed over to some nice people and spend her days playing with a doll or studying physics or whatever it is ten-year-old geniuses like doing, and that they should handle her brother separately. And, yeah, this might sound against first rule in man hunting, but this rule, if remembered correctly, is "Find the woman". There was never any mention of hurt children playing bait.

Don pretends he hasn't heard him and keeps up his polite chatter until they reach the kitchen... and he frowns.

- Erica? Hey, can you come here for a minute?

He peeks into the bowl she used and left in the sink, uncannily bothered by something.

- She's probably in her room, one of the agents – Ryan - says. Don't bother, we'll see about introduction when she...

- Shit!

The next second, Don has taken off towards the stairs, throwing a tight "The pills, damn it" to his partner. And Ryan could have sworn he saw a slight smirk stretching said partner's lips before he followed him.

* * *

><p>She's running hard down the little street, ignoring the pain in her shoulder that her little flight down the outside stairs ignited. Without pausing to ponder on directions, she takes a sharp turn left, leaps over a few garbage bags and makes her way down the narrow street, keeping an ear out for suspicious sounds behind her. She's no fool, she knows they're probably already after her, but this was an opening she didn't have the strength to pass up on, even perfectly aware she wouldn't be running as fast as she usually can. But... making it through another night without Luka, with them on the other side of the wall, sounds beyond her strength... Tears briefly cloud her vision but she furiously blinks them back, never slowing down. Quickly deciding the man on the farthest end of the street seems weird, she turns right, quickly dodges a couple of teenagers engaged in a thorough exploration of each other's throats and speeds up, throwing a quick "Sorry" over their startled protests, and keeps running. Her lungs are burning, her legs weird, her muscles protesting against the abuse ... but she has to pay attention only to her surroundings. Keep every indication in mind, remain aware of everything that goes on around her. Do not slip into this oh-so-welcoming numbness her spirit provides when it starts to strain, nor into the dark whirlwind of her memories. Nothing bad is going to happen to her now, she's just going to put enough distance between her and the agents, then wait for nightfall, call Luka and get out of there, together. Like in Prison Break, they'll move to Panama and open...<p>

A mass suddenly gets out of the shadows and she slams into the large body, biting her lip against the sharp burning in her shoulder before spinning on her heels and trying to get away, but a large hand closes on her back and a cold wave of panic washes through her head.

- Hey, keep still...

It's Eppes, some detached, still functioning part of her mind whispers. And you're both alone in a dark alley... She struggles harder, ignoring the pain, until he grabs both her wrists in one hand and uses his other one to pin her against his chest.

- Erica, stop that! He orders sharply. Just... damnit, just stop!

Abruptly, she goes pliant and he can feel the warmth of her rapid breathing through his shirt. Tentatively, he slips a hand on the back of her head to try and soothe her, but quickly takes it away when she tenses.

- Hey, just calm down, okay? I won't hurt you.

Her stomach is churning and when his grip around her wrists loosen a bit, she has to clamp back hard on a sudden wave of nausea. Especially when he spares one hand to palm her stomach...

- Okay. Maybe she can give in to the numbness now.

* * *

><p>- Christ, what happened? Cooper exclaims.<p>

His partner doesn't answer right away, first depositing the unconscious child gently on the couch and slipping his fingers inside her collar, apparently satisfied by the lack of blood when they come out.

- She fainted.

- No kidding.

- I don't know. She's probably still to weak for that kind of race, can you get Doctor Clements on the phone?

* * *

><p>The stethoscope is cold against her skin as the doctor gently leans her forward, but she couldn't care less. She doesn't care about anything right now.<p>

- Where does it hurt ?

- Nowhere.

- You're sure ? That shoulder must be bothering you a little, isn't it ?

His voice is soft, his hands professional. If the bitter taste at the back of her throat wasn't so strong, she'd be almost comforted.

- I'm alright.

- How about you tell me what happened ?

- Haven't they already ?

- Maybe I want your version.

She looks down at the bedroom floor, her hands clenching in her lap.

- I tried to run away. They caught me. (A sigh) I guess that's what they do.

- Why try and run away ?

The little girl shakes her head tightly and he nods.

- Okay. ( His voice is still as patient. ) Can you tell me who caught you ?

- Agent Eppes.

- What happened then ?

- I...

She swallows painfully. Even if she knows he hasn't... done anything... the fear's still as vivid.

- I don't remember. I fainted.

- Did he do or say anything that scared you? Or made you uncomfortable? Today or before, the both of them. Anything out of the ordinary, even if it's nothing much... Just a feeling...

- No.

The word is curt.

- All right. You know what, I'll leave you my number here. Call me whenever you want.

- They won't let me.

- ... Well, I'll call you then. In two days. And I'll drop by on Friday night after leaving the hospital.

- You don't have to.

- I want to. You're a very brave little girl, Erica. And I want you to know that if you change your mind, I'll have you back at the hospital, federal cowboys notwithstanding.

Something that might almost be called a smile curves her lips.

- All right.

- Okay. Here are some painkillers. ( He puts a small white bottle on the nightstand and gets up) So. Talk to you in two days, all right?

- Yes.

He nods and get up, gathering his stuff before walking to the door.

- Doctor?

- Yes?

- Thank you.

* * *

><p>The two aforementioned cowboys are sitting in the living room and raise expectant gazes when he enters.<p>

- Is she all right? The red head asks.

- No. By all means, she's not all right, the doctor replies dryly.

- Does she need to go back to the hospital?

- Unfortunately, no.

- Doctor Clements... Eppes starts.

- I'll be frank, the doctor interrupts with a glare. If this girl had been brought into the ER by her parents, I'd have had her admitted _away from them_ and called the police. Now it seems as though I can. But I'll call her and come pay you surprise visits. If she's so much as stuttering, I'll have her out of here and the both of you arrested.

- If you're threatening us, I'll advise you to have some proof, Don says, apparently unruffled.

- I'm warning you, Doctor Clements rectifies hotly. You people tend to forget you're serving the law, not making it, and you tend to confuse my duty to break my patients' secrecy with the fact of being tied hand and feet. So I'd advise you to be very careful with her.

- We are not the bad guys here.

- In my world, good people in law enforcement don't use a ten year old girl as bait.

He puts a prescription on the table, curtly gives the instructions for them and leaves.

* * *

><p><em>March 24th<em>

Cooper takes out three steaks and puts water to boil, humming softly.

- Steaks and pasta alright? He calls out.

- Fine, Don nods absent-mindedly, nose buried in his journal.

They're both in the kitchen, Don sitting at the table and Coop playing housewife, every now and then sparing a glance at the young girl sitting cross-legged on the sofa, eyes on the TV. She doesn't talk, never smiles, but there's something about her that is slowing getting under his skin.

He drops a few handfuls of pasta in the water then wipes his hands before walking up to her. She turns her head to face him, expression expectant.

- Pasta and steak alright, Gorgeous?

- Yes. Could you please not call me that?

- Call you what?

- You know. Gorgeous.

- Why not? You are.

- No I'm not. You're just... trying to be friendly.

- Why would I do that? We're not friends, are we?

- No.

- Then I probably call you Gorgeous cos I mean it. What other reason could I have?

- Stupidity.

It's the first time her politeness wavers and Cooper can't help but smile. She looks a bit awkward, her cheeks have reddened, but she doesn't back pedal.

* * *

><p>The view is pretty nice from the roof and Billy has made an habbit of coming up here for a smoke and some thinking before turning in. Sometimes Don joins him with two beers, but most of the time the only sounds he can hear are those from the cars and bodiless voices.<p>

The sound of socked feet padding on the cement is a first, though.

- Hey, he grins, surprised. What are you doing here?

She shrugs one shoulder.

- I'm sorry, she says quickly. For calling you stupid, I didn't mean it.

For a split second, the agent thinks she's concealed a knife under her sweatshirt or gotten her hands on something sharp or whatever, because the idea that she might actually be apologizing for _that_ to the man who's kept her locked up in a house full of gun-carrying strangers for a week to go trying to get her brother in handcuffs is... alarming. But then he notices something wavering in her black gaze.

- Hum. I've been called worse.

- That doesn't make it acceptable. So, sorry.

- Thank you, he nods.

She makes as though to go back inside and he decides he's got to find something to say fast.

- You know, the view's pretty nice.

The girl stops, but doesn't completely turn around.

- Really?

- Hum-hum. I mean, unless you're afraid of heights.

- ... Not really, no.

Hesitantly, she takes a few steps closer.

- Is that why you come up here?

- Sure. And not to poison your sane lungs with my deadly cigarettes.

She doesn't smile, but her face softens slightly and he grins, feeling the tight knot that's been weighting on his chest for some days loosen.

- You should stop, she says.

- Yeah, I know. I tried the gums but they're crap. ( He waits a few seconds for a reply that doesn't come, before continuing lightly. ) I'll have a go at the patches of these days. Though with my job, I'm more likely to get shot than get cancer.

- Probabilities... ( She shakes her head) Never mind.

- ... Probabilities are... what? He probes gently.

- They're... They never work the way we'd want them to.

- So you're telling me I'm going to die of cancer?

- I don't know.

- I'd take a quick death by gunfire any day of the week.

Only belatedly does he realise that the conversation might not be entirely suitable for the child she very much is, but his remorses disappear when he notices her "not quite light" expression.

- I'm gonna die of cancer? Bold, thin and voiceless in an hospital bed, right?

She shakes her head, lowering her gaze to her lap, and the smile he's been striving for almost, _almost_ surfaces.

* * *

><p><em>Please let me know what you think !<em>


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